


The words I wrote

by Biancorvino



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-18 01:08:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18975772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biancorvino/pseuds/Biancorvino
Summary: Basically a recap of some the songs Brian Firkus aka Trixie Mattel wrote, when, where and how, based of actual facts and some immagination.





	The words I wrote

_Mama don’t make me put on the dress again._

Brian hated getting in drag, he hated it so much he eventually decided to write a song about it. So, while watching his reflection on a dirty mirror, somewhere in a club in LA, his creative mind started working, and verses simply came out of his brain. He took a few paper sheets and his favourite pen and began to write; he thought about all the things he hated about painting: hiding his brows was definitely the worst part! Coating hair with sticky purple glue was not something pleasant, if he was brave enough he would have shaved them long time ago, but he wanted to look at least presentable out of drag.

Then there was foundation, which for an average drag queen was not too critical, but if your name is Trixie Mattel and you use four different type of foundation then it’s a different story. And the wig, the so fucking hated wig, because once again if you are another drag queen then your wigs can be slightly uncomfortable but if your name is Trixie Mattel you have to pile thousands of blonde strands on your head and it hurts way more than expected. Brian thought about that time at DragCon when his wigs was so big and heavy he got migraines and vomited from time to time, in a dirty restroom used by hundreds of people.

While he wrote some random verses to then scribble something more, doodle something there he also recalled the times when his stepfather abused him, called him a “Trixie”. There were really dark moments in Brian’s life that made him question everything he has ever done, but somehow he was never scared of the abuse, and took that man’s offence as his pride, and became Trixie Mattel. More and more shits of papers flew on the floor or ended up in a trashcan, but after hours he finished his work, and proudly copied the lyrics with his best handwriting on a new sheet of paper. Here he was with his song, his new lyrics, and he loved it. Brian got a highlighter from his backpack (of course a hot pink one) and highlighted his favourite part as he always did.

“I've been booking every city

Looking sad but lookin pretty, lookin

Lover don't make me hit the road again”

 

 

 

_Moving parts_

Brian always felt like something in his mind was not working perfectly, like if there was some engine working slower then the other or a missing piece fucking up all his thoughts. He also thought it was ridiculous to think about himself as a machine, because he was clearly not and no one should expect it from him. But he knew that in this world people are kinda treated like machines, working all day long, supposed to be in a certain way and be functioning 24/7. Brian thought about all the times he was told life is beautiful, falling in love was amazing and others stuff that would make his life better.

Expecially with love, everybody got so hyped about love when it was just really a chemical reaction that fucked up people’s life; all the people think about falling in love and maybe build a life with their partner, but who can warn them about all the things that could end their dreams? The possibilities were endless. Brian fell in love before, and thought it was amazing, to then change his mind when he was dumped or rejected. “Friends should warn each other about all the bad things love brings” he thought biting his lips, drawing a small cactus on the corner of the page. He waited some seconds to let the pink ink dry, highlighting again his favourite verse of the song.

“No one gave a warning to the breaking of your heart

Pick up all the pieces and go back to the start

Never losing, only using all your moving parts

All your moving parts”

 

 

 

_Little sister_

 Brian loved and hated Wisconsin at the same time. He loved how his small comunity made him fall in love with country music: one of his favorite memories was when he was a little boy and his grandpa thought him how to play the guitar; it was only the two of them, under the hot sun in summer, lost in hundreds of fields and protected by the porch.

He listened to Dolly Parton with his grandma while she was preparing something to eat for his siblings and him, he remembered listening to “wildflower” while he drunk Kool Aid with no sugar or hearing “Jolene” from his mom’s room when he was half asleep on the couch, or “coat of many colors” playing at the gas station when he was resting in his car during a Saturday evening. It was kinda sad how his existence was limited to that sad part of Wisconsin, he felt like he was the main character in a bad ‘70 movie set in the Midwest, which was not so far away from reality.

But now Brian lived in LA so why worrying about Milwaukee or Crivitz or all the places he used to call “home”? He surely loved Los Angeles, the weather was great and people were awesome, but his heart was parted. One piece was in his new hometown, surrounded by hipsters and WEHO gays, where he was not judged, where he had brunch and used an electric scooter to move; but the other part was in Wisconsin, lost in those sunny fields, under that porch, beating to the rhythm of Dolly Parton.

When he felt homesick, Brian would take his guitar and played the song that reminded him of home, and he always got a little emotional when he sang that specific part:

“You can run in the cover of the night sky when it falls

I know that you think that you're growing

But you're just tall”

 

 

 

_I know you all over again_

 Brian dried his eyes with the back of his hand, his tears wetted the paper sheet on the bar’s table and his second glass of whiskey was already half empty, he didn’t exactly know were he was, he knew at least he was somewhere in Kentuky. He hated break ups with all his heart, he knew it was just a process everyone had to face at a point in their lives, he knew how hard it would have been, he knew it was normal, but he wished he knew how hard it would have hit him.

He felt is heart aching, physically, and he was sure he could have died of headache in that moments. Brian thought about him, and new tears made their way to his eyes, again falling on the paper, smearing the words.

He was Brian’s sunshine, he was everything he hoped for, after a long time of abuse and darkness Brian felt like he could see the lights again, but everything just fell apart after the break up. Brian thought about all the things that made him happy, and wrote them down, only to make him more melancholic. When Brian woke up the first thing he smelled was his perfume, all over the sheets and on his pillow, and when he tried to get out of bed he would hear his boyfriend doing something, moving dishes, making coffee, showering. He recalled all those goodbyes before he started a tour, the hugging and kissing that made him cry like a baby on the plane, and all the calls when he felt homesick, and when the calls were not enough he would listen to the songs they loved, and that always made him smile. And now all of that was gone, gone forever.

But Brian just couldn’t get over it, so he decided that at least for today he’d give himself the time to cry, to let it go and only then recover. He took his pen and took a fresh post it and wrote something on it, before chugging all the leftover whiskey. He leaned back on the seat and hold the post it close to his heart, a pink post it telling

“But then I see you, and I know you all over again”

 

  

 

_Soldier_

 Brian never thought something like that could happen, but here he was, face to face with his best friend announcing his break from drag.

His first thought was “Jesus please, take everything away from me but not him, not Brian”. His best friend, his soul, the reason while he laughed, his favorite person was packing things up, telling him he was taking a break from drag. He was beyond shocked, beyond broke, he was destroyed. “Brian please, no” his voice was shaking, he never called Katya “Brian” before, but the intensity of the moment made him do it. Some tears wetted his cheek, and his body shut down, his eyes just followed his friend in complete disorientation, not able to process what was going on. And when he did, it hit all at once: what he was going to do after Brian was gone? What would he do with the Trixie and Katya show? What about UNHhhh? What if Katya will never come back? A load of questions obscured his mind, his throat hurting for holding back, he felt like he was about to explode; however his friend didn’t seem to care, in the darkness of the backstage he packed all his things and left him, but before he quitted everything he turned back, and looked at him.

“Trixie, I am so sorry” his voice was raspy, like more than usual, and his eyes were visibly wet, he also sniffed while drying his eyes. They hugged each other for a long time that seemed like nothing to Brian, he hold his friend like it was the last time he could see him, tightening the hug as much as he could, almost as if he wanted to keep some of Katya with him. When his best friend left, Brian Firkus didn’t know what to do with his life.

There were tough months, from time to time he would grab a tiny rubber hand and hold it as if it was the most valuable jewel in the world, when he was walking down a street and someone was smoking Brian remembered that horrific smell he used to hate so much but now missed, or when a lady with red lipstick was around he thought about how much he hated Katya’s lipstick when they kissed and red spots would mix with his pink lips. And here he was again with a notebook, writing a song, this time for Katya, for Brian McCook, for the person that lifted him up; and it was not just “Trixie Mattel” writing, it was Brian as a whole individual.

He didn’t know how Katya/Brian was, how he was feeling, but when he sang the song for the first time, as a radio host, he was sure somehow his friend would just know. Fans clocked him immediatly, rumors of the song’s subject spread across the internet, and Brian couldn’t keep it as a secret anymore. So here he was on that stage, with his guitar, trying to find the braveness to do that.

“This song is about a few people in my life...”

he said adjusting himself

“this is about me, this is about Katya”

The crowd went beyond crazy, the screams brought him joy, so much he couldn’t cope with it that his voice broke. “No one said the words all have to rhyme and if they do it’s fine”

It was March 17th 2018, a day he will never forget. When he woke up the next day, with the lingering happiness of the previous night still there, he felt like something changed. During the day he couldn’t figure out, but he did by the end of noon. At 6:00 pm, after a quiet day, the tweet he saw changed his life.

@katya_zamo: The Bitch is Back.


End file.
